So, I have this thing about the supermarket parking lot being too much like an Indy car race. I insist that the kids keep one hand on the cart while I'm walking to the car because people are whipping around in every direction. I frown on those needless trips to the E.R. (Suzy doesn't like to go there on her day off)
Okay, my kid is 12 now and she probably doesn't NEED to do this.
Today when she sort of rolled her eyes at me I started rapping (yes, rapping) "Put your hand, put your hand on the cart." The next line was pretty funny but of course since I'm senile I've forgotten it now. Dan got into it with part of the Scranton rap song.
She's no slouch. She never missed a step, just started talking aloud. "So, I'm adopted. At least I know for sure now. I wonder where my real family lives."
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Just tell her, she was raised by wolves before you found her.
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